


the great voltron bake off

by desastrista



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Baking, Crack, Domestic, Fake Marriage, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 06:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desastrista/pseuds/desastrista
Summary: Early season 7 AU: Keith and Shiro are still dealing with the fallout from their fight and discovering that Shiro is a clone. It would be enough to put a strain in any relationship....And then they are forced to compete in a potentially lethal alien baking show.Written for the 2018 Sheith Secret Santa for arahir, who requested "domestic Sheith" and "anything tbh" and unfortunately for everyone today anything is alien cooking shows.





	the great voltron bake off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arahir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arahir/gifts).



> I hope you like this arahir! I couldn't quite think of a good arranged marriage AU but i hope a fake marriage AU is close enough.

The first time Shiro rode in the Black Lion, Keith took longer to prepare his bed than he had for any of the other passengers. If Shiro noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead he just looked around and laughed, “All that time in the Black Lion’s consciousness, and I’m still not sure I could tell you where’s the best place here for a nap.” 

“How much do you remember?” Keith asked quietly as he knelt to tuck in a corner of the bedsheet. Shiro raised an eyebrow. “You talk about your time in the Black Lion, but there was also --” The rest of the words were too difficult to get out.

Shiro's smile faltered. “I still have some of my clone memories.” He finished the words Keith wouldn't, couldn't say. “At the same time I remember being inside the Black Lion. It's not quite all or nothing. It's more like -- a patchwork, I guess, inside my head. Two people's memories, all stuffed into one head.” He tried passing it off as a joke, but Keith wasn't laughing.

“A lot happened while you were gone,” Keith moved his hands to flatten already perfectly flat sheets. It was easier than looking at Shiro. 

“I remember you leaving.”

There was an unspoken apology in Shiro's voice. Keith's shoulders tensed reflexively and he forced himself to relax. “I learned a lot with the Blades. I found my mom. There's no apology needed.” 

“Keith --” 

Keith made to stand before Shiro could finish that sentence. “This should work for sleeping. If you need any more blankets, I think Lance has all the spares.”

But Shiro wasn't looking at the bed or at Keith. He was just staring into the middle distance. “I remember that I tried to kill you.”

There’s been a lot of idle time while flying back to Earth, enough time for Keith to think himself into knots about that fight. Of course Shiro remembered, how could he forget? But then this was the first time he's said anything on the subject. Maybe saying nothing was the right response to your friend confessing that he loves you like a brother in the middle of a fight to the death. If anyone would know the right way to respond to that, it would be Shiro. Keith certainly didn’t know and would rather face the entire clone army alone again than ask. 

“That wasn't you,” Keith answered. Before Shiro could say anything to the contrary, Keith added stiffly, “I'll be up front if you need anything.” It was a quick retreat to the familiarity of the cockpit and away from that conversation. 

Keith had outraced Garrison forces, spent days digging through rubble, thrown himself at any threat, and jumped off a collapsing platform without thought of rescue, all for Shiro. It's always been easier to do that than just talk about his feelings.

 

 

It's not like it's easy to tell what time it was when traveling across most of the known galaxy, but it felt late. The cockpit was cool and dark as Keith closed his eyes.

A warm light flooded his vision and he snapped them open. 

He was no longer sitting in the cockpit of the Black Lion. He was no longer in the Black Lion at all; it was nowhere in sight. Instead, he was standing in what -- in defiance of all common sense -- appeared to be an airy white tent with panels showing a pastoral alien landscape of purple vegetation. 

“What,” Keith started, “the --”

“Welcome, welcome!” A bright green alien walked towards Keith, three-fingered hands outstretched with what Keith hoped was enthusiasm and not hostility. This alien had four eyestalks, which appeared to move independently but were right now all focused on him. “Welcome Keith and Shiro, our very special Earth guests to the Great Galvactian Bake Off!”

Keith turned. Shiro was standing next to him. From the look on his face, he was making the same calculations as Keith: where in the universe they could be, how did they get here, and -- most importantly -- how could they get back to their Lions. 

All those calculations ground to a halt when Keith noticed that Shiro was wearing an apron. He looked down. He was wearing one too. 

“Did you say -- Bake Off?” Keith asked weakly. 

 

 

The alien introduced himself as Klaxigan, the Host-Priest of the Great Galvactian Bake Off. They took Shiro and Keith on a tour of what they kept calling “the temple” but which was also very clearly a tent. 

“So, this is a religious event,” Shiro stated in the kind of calm and collected voice that was the exact opposite of how Keith felt about the situation. 

“Oh yes. We are adherents of an ancient Earth religion,” Klaxigan explained.

“Baking shows,” Keith clarified hopelessly. 

“Of course. I understand in their prime, they were very popular on Earth.” 

Keith took a long look around. “Yes,” he admitted. “I think a few things might have gotten lost in translation, though.”

To the Galvactian's credit, they had recreated a lot of the baking show experience. There were eight different cooking stations, complete with Earth utensils, ovens, and ingredients.

Not to the Galvactian's credit, there was no reason Keith or Shiro should be here.

Shiro, of course, was able to find a diplomatic way to frame this thought. “We appreciate the tour of your, uh, temple. But we are paladins of Voltron. The universe needs us back with our team and our Lions.”

The alien turned orange and clicked their teeth. “But this is the Celebration of Jordenmuuster! What is the universe to Jordenmuuster? You are the guests of honor today, you must stay.”

“Of course, how could we forget about -- Jordenmaster.” Keith responded, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. His attention wasn't on Klaxigan; he was looking towards the edges of the tent. There appeared to be a few armed aliens standing in the shadows, no doubt the temple security. Keith and Shiro's bayards had both been confiscated, along with Keith's blade. Fighting their way out did not look promising. They would have to find some other way.

“If we participate in your ceremony, will you return us home?” Keith asked quietly.

“You are our special guests, so assuming you are not sent home, you will be allowed to leave.”

“Sent home? You mean we lose?” Keith furrowed his brow. “That doesn't sound so bad. I mean we do want to go home.” 

Klaxigan hummed noncommittally. “Perhaps in the end we do all want to go home. And rest assured, if you do fail, we are more civilized in our ways than our original sacred sources. Our greatest baking scholars believe that in the original contestants were returned home via a blow to the head or something similar. As Galvactians, we prefer a less permanent option --” 

“Wait, what?” Keith interrupted. “No, I've seen Earth baking shows. Being sent home just means that the contestant -- went home. There was no murder!” 

The noise Klaxigan made has no direct human equivalent, but the disapproval it conveyed needed no translation. “Well, that's quite the apocryphal interpretation, Human Guest. Anyway, as I was saying, we prefer less permanent punishments. Now there is a waiting period during which the rest of the show completes. Then those who have failed the Judge-Gods will of course be let go.” 

Shiro glanced at Keith from the corner of his eyes and gave a small shrug. As far as options went, that didn't sound terrible. “How long does it take to complete the show?” 

“A hundred decaphebes.” 

“A hundred decaphebes?” Keith and Shiro echoed in horror. Keith added, “That seems pretty permanent to me.”

Klaxigan appeared unbothered by this information. “All the more reason to focus on a bake that will satisfy Jordenmuuster. Good luck, bakers!” 

With that, Klaxigan left them. Shiro and Keith stared at each other in disbelief.

“So, Keith, you said you used to watch these kind of shows,” Shiro asked weakly. “Did you learn anything?”

 

 

 

Keith sat in front of the oven, staring into its dark depths like they might divulge some secrets. At the very least, it was definitely an oven. They had checked. Too many experiences with alien technology that looked like a teapot but ended up being a death ray. But no, these are definitely Earth ovens. 

If only Keith had ever really learned to use one.

“I hope the rest of the team is safe,” Shiro said. “It does look like they just chose the two of us.” 

“We probably would have seen them by now if they were here,” Keith agreed. “I wonder why these Galvactians chose the two of us.” 

Shiro looked down at one of the cookbooks he had been able to scrounge from around the tent. The aliens referred to them as “sacred texts”. The title of the book Shiro is reading is “30 Festive Desserts To Wow Your Friends”.

“It definitely wasn't cooking skills.” Shiro laughed. “If it was, you would be here with Hunk, not me.” 

“You would probably be with the one with Hunk. My culinary skills start and end with making mac and cheese out of a box.” 

“I'm sure it's a mean mac and cheese, though.” Shiro smiled. Despite the situation, Keith felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Even after everything, Shiro always knew the right thing to say in these situations. 

It was a short-lived relief, as at that moment a voice boomed out, “And now welcome your two Judge-Gods, Pawharlwood and Merbourdain!” 

At the front of the tent, two palanquins entered. Behind the gossamer fabric, the vague outline of two aliens could be seen. The Galvactians who were waiting at the other cooking stations began to hum in an unearthly chorus. Shiro and Keith just shot each other a very confused look. 

“Was this what baking shows were like on Earth?” Shiro whispered uncertainly. 

“I think the aliens took some liberties,” Keith muttered. 

“Bakers! Today we honor the great and all knowing Jordenmuuster. We ask for your first bake that you make something fit for Kruslenot.”

Keith and Shiro waited for a minute to see if any more explanation was forthcoming. But the palanquins cleared the way and Klaxigan shouted, “Bakers, you have one varga to complete the challenge!”

All the other Galvactians started to scramble. Keith and Shiro just looked at each other. 

“Ok,” Keith admitted, “That was actually pretty much how much information the bakers got on Earth.”

“I found a recipe for chocolate chip cookies,” Shiro looked down at the book. “That’s probably fit for Kruslenot -- whoever or whatever that is.” 

They spent the next few minutes fumbling around for ingredients and equipment. Everything was labeled in Galvactian, so there was some guesswork. But still when everything was laid out on the table, Shiro smiled. 

“I used to make cookies with my grandma,” he explained. 

Keith had started scooping what he was fairly certain was flour. “I didn't know that.” 

“I didn't know you were a fan of those old baking shows,” Shiro teased. 

“After I dropped out of the Garrison, I had a lot of free time. The TV helped fill the silence. Wish I had paid a bit more attention.” He looked down at the ingredients suspiciously. 

“Everything always looks easier on --” Shiro started, but faded as Klaxigan walked towards them with a self-satisfied hum.

“Our guest bakers!” They called out in enthusiasm. “Did I just hear you two learning something new about each other?”

“Uh. Yeah,” Keith added, a little annoyed at the interruption. “Why are you asking?”

“Oh, nothing honors Jordenmuuster quite like a marriage being enriched!” Klaxigan was practically beaming.

Keith had started to mix in the rest of the dry ingredients to the flour. He abruptly dropped the spoon in the bowl. 

“Did you say a marriage?” Shiro asked, noticeably more politely than Keith would have managed to be. 

“Why yes, of course! Look around at the other contestants. All of them married, just like you! To honor all the marriages in one's life, that is what the ritual today is for.” 

“Ok, that was never in the show,” Keith stabbed at the bowl a little too aggressively and scattered a small cloud of flour over his hands and the counter. 

“There must be some mistake,” Shiro started, sounding more amused than annoyed. “We're not --” 

Klaxigan let out a high pitched scream. Instantly Keith was on the alert. His hand reached for where his blade had been, and he tried to position himself between Klaxigan and Shiro. 

“Oh you Earthlings, what a sense of humor you have!” Klaxigan gasped. Keith relaxed slightly. Apparently that had not been a war-cry after all, just a fit of laughter. Keith couldn't say he wanted to hear it again. “Why of course you're married!” Klaxigan continued, “That's why the scanner picked you up as a guest.” 

They made what Keith hoped was an approving noise at Keith and Shiro's baking progress so far and then moved on to the next set of bakers. Now alone with Shiro again, Keith felt his face flooding with warmth and hoped it wasn't too obvious. 

“These Galvactians really don't know anything, huh,” he said, more quickly than he intended. Conviction returned to his voice as he added, “They don't even know none of those old baking shows involve couples.” 

“Yeah,” Shiro agreed, in a distant tone that Keith knew meant his mind was somewhere else. “Well, hopefully they still like chocolate chips.” 

They finished the rest of the dough in an awkward silence. Nothing seemed to go right. The kitchen area was too small and they were always bumping into each other. Shiro realized after the cookies had been stopped that they had forgotten to add the eggs and then had to mix everything back together and hope for the best. In the end, they pulled the cookies out of the oven when both of them started to smell smoke. Their chocolate chip cookies were a solid, unappetizing black on the bottom. 

As the clock ran down, Keith looked despondently over at the rest of the contestants. All the Galvactians were busy running around their station to finish in time. Keith thought he recognized some cookies being made and maybe what could pass as a cake if you squinted hard enough. But there were also some fantastical shapes and colors that Keith did not have the vocabulary to name. He remembered Klaxigan's warning about those who lost the competition. They couldn't afford to be sent home. 

 

 

The two judges returned sans palanquins to visit each station and pronounce judgment. They took a slice of cake and said it needed more of a crust, then praised a different set of cookies for “avoiding that greatest of evils, the soggy bottom”. 

When the judges got to Keith and Shiro, they took a few careful bites. 

“I do not know what strange Earth ingredient you have put in these, but it is really ingenious,” said the one that might have been Pawharlwood.

“I particularly like the strong flavor of smoke you used,” agreed Merbourdain. “It truly reflects the firey nature of Kruslenot.” 

“Yes,” Shiro deadpanned. “That was absolutely what we were going for.”

“A little bland overall, but not terrible,” Pawharlwood concluded. 

When the judges turned to the next group, Shiro and Keith both released a nervous breath. 

“We got lucky there,” Keith muttered. 

“Let's hope our luck holds in the next round too,” Shiro muttered back. He gave Keith a small, encouraging smile. 

It was impossible not to smile back. There was a relentless belief in Shiro; he had a way about him that made you believe in impossibilities. Keith knew this, but he still found himself believing. 

 

 

There was a flurry of activity around the tent as the Galvactians set up what Keith could only assume was the second challenge. 

“If this is anything like the original Earth show, they'll give us instructions next,” Keith explained to Shiro. There was nothing for them to do so they sat at their station and kept a careful eye on the exit. So far no opportunities had arose to escape, however. 

“That sounds helpful.” 

“The instructions in the original were deliberately unhelpful. Of all the things the Galvactians have changed, hopefully they'll change that too.” 

Shiro's lip quirked. “What about how all the contestants are apparently married?” 

Keith's face had gotten warm again. “I wonder where they got that from.” 

“Does it bother you?” 

Of course Shiro would ask. He had always been good at confronting what Keith would always avoid.

“I don't know,” Keith forced a shrug, as if it didn't really matter to him. “I mean, it is strange. We aren't married, but they're so confident."

That was the most of the truth he could bring himself to admit. There was another half, he couldn't say, which is that the aliens were wrong, but he wished they were right. 

But that wasn't the kind of thought you could just spring on your best friend. Not without ruining things. 

“You asked me on the Black Lion what I remembered.”

Apparently Shiro wasn't going to be satisfied with just that section of the truth. 

The noise in the tent died down. The outline of the two palanquins were faintly visible through the thin fabric of the tent. Keith looked at them, hoping that they would hurry up and desperately hoping they would dawdle at the same time. 

“I remember you fighting. With me. Or, at least clone me. And I remember what you said to me.” 

Keith's mouth had gone very dry. 

He opened his mouth to say something at the same moment that a voice echoed out from the front of the tent. 

“Contestants! For our next ritual, you will have one varga to complete our instructions. All other aide is forbidden. From now on, your fate lies in the hands of the Great Host-Priests, as they are in all things. Jordenmuuster save you. Time starts now.”

Keith and Shiro missed the first minute because they simply stared in confusion at the hosts. At least, that was what Keith was doing. It was possible Shiro was just staring at him. He should say something. 

Keith cleared his throat and muttered. “We should look at the instructions.”

From the look on Shiro's face, that wasn't quite what he had been hoping to discuss. But the challenge did await and they had less than a varga left. 

Shiro looked at the holoscreen before them. “The first instruction says to get out the galgarian -- what the hell is that?” 

In a few minutes, the conversation was behind them as they both threw themselves into the task. It took a lot of cooperation to map the Galvactian name to the Earth equipment, and in no time they were a team again, calling out ingredients and quantities. It helped when Shiro realized the recipe was actually for vanilla cupcakes.

“That's a lot simpler than what I expected,” he huffed. 

“I don't know,” Keith said slyly. “Remember we still have to trust in the Judge-Gods.”

Shiro laughed and just for a moment, despite the circumstances, the stakes, and the limitations of his own abilities, Keith thought he might actually be enjoying cooking. 

Klaxigan wandered over by their station a few time. Each time, they looked over at the two of them and hummed approval. The first time Keith spotted this, he dropped the pans he had been sorting and half the tent stared at the clanging.

“I think I saw the cupcake pan near the back of that cabinet,” Shiro said, as if that was why Keith had lost his concentration. 

The second time was right after Shiro's hand had ghosted over Keith's as they were passing ingredients. Keith felt his cheeks burn but he held his gaze steady this time. 

They ended up third from the bottom in the competition. 

“It's a good bake, although obviously these bakers are woefully ignorant about Earth cupcakes. A cupcake should always have a flat top; an Earthling would be at a complete loss to understand this strange domed top.”

Keith rubbed at his temples in frustration even as Shiro smiled. 

“We're still not last!” He whispered. “So now we're free to leave?”

“There's one last round,” Keith replied. “It's the most important, and if we're not careful, we could still lose in that round.”

Shiro nodded. “Whatever it is, we can get through it. Together.” 

Keith thought back to the last two challenges. They had done okay, but when Keith had faltered, it had never actually been about the baking. 

And each time, it could be cleared up just by one conversation. 

Keith chewed on his bottom lip. “Together,” he nodded. 

 

 

There was another break before the last round. Keith walked over to the side of the tent, where Klaxigan appeared busy poring through some notes. 

“I wanted to ask you a question about Galvactian culture,” he started. 

“Oh?” Klaxigan perked up. “Are you seeking the wisdom and guidance of Jordenmuuster? Or perhaps you wish to be blessed by the Judge-Gods, perhaps with a sacred handshake?”

“Uh. Neither. You said all the contestants were married. But what do Galvactians think a marriage is?” 

Klaxigan turned a surprised yellow. “But it is an Earth custom, which we merely adopted. I am surprised you do not know it.”

Keith gave a thin smile in return. “I'd like to know how the Galvantians understand it.” 

“Ah. Of course. Well then, marriage is any extraordinary bond of love. It is a rare thing; most people will probably only have a few marriages in their life.” 

Keith felt his heart skip a beat. It was with great effort that he forced his voice to hold steady. “So, is it usually romantic partners --?” 

That horrible screech of laughter again. “What a limited way of understanding the word! Sometimes of course you are married to your romantic partner. But marriage is so much more rich and varied than that. Please tell me Earthlings do not have such a narrow view.”

Keith felt a wave of relief. “I think the Galvactians have their own understanding of the word, but I like it.” 

Keith returned back to the station, where Shiro had piled a ragtag collection of cookbooks. He was currently skimming the sacred text of “Low Sugar, High Fun! Desserts for Any Diet.” 

He looked up from his study as Keith approached. “Find out anything useful?”

Keith took a deep breath. “Well, I did find out that by Galvactian standards we are definitely married.”

 

 

The final round began with an order from the Judge-Gods to dream bigger and build bigger than the contestants ever had before. 

Shiro had the cookbook open to a glossy photo of a chocolate cake. “This was my grandma's favorite. She said it was the perfect cake for any occasion. I assume she meant parties and not, you know, deadly alien baking shows. But I think the point still stands.”

The baking started with a flurry of activity. They worked well together by now, familiar with the kitchen and each other. And when their hands would brush together or Shiro would pat Keith on the back, Keith didn't stammer or blush but just smiled a little to himself.

They finally had a quiet moment after the cake and frosting had been made, and they were just waiting for the cake to cool enough to decorate it. 

“So, Galvactians don't distinguish between romantic love and other kinds of love,” Shiro started. Keith nodded. 

There was a long pause. Keith knew Shiro, probably knew him better than he knew anybody besides himself. And somedays probably even better than that. Keith knew Shiro was weighting the next thing he said very carefully. 

Keith felt the same rush of adrenaline that had propelled him in fights throughout the dictionary. But there was no danger here, just the waft of Earth and alien flavors in the air and the promise of a long-delayed conversation. 

He took a steadying breath at the same moment Shiro said, “But humans do. And I think we might have different ideas about each other.” 

At this point fighting a clone of Shiro would have been kinder. 

But he had always known, hadn't he? Even when he was in the Garrison and Shiro was the subject of a lot of unrequited fantasies. 

“I'm just a brother to you, and that's ok.” 

There was a long pause during which the pieces with which Keith puzzled together Shiro had to be rearranged. 

“Wait, what?” he asked. 

“I remember you saying that I was like a brother to you. And I -- see us as something more than that. When the Galvactians said we were married, I was happy because I thought maybe they knew something I didn't, maybe it really was meant to be. But now it seems they just defined marriage a little differently. Anyway, nothing between us has to change. I just had to get that off my chest.”

Keith listened silently through Shiro's explanation because he was too busy trying to hold back slightly hysteric laughter to talk.

“No,” he finally managed to spurt. “That's not -- I --” 

Shiro looked increasingly concerned and Shiro wasn't sure if it was because of what Keith was saying or if he was afraid Keith was in the middle of a stroke. 

“It's not like that,” he finally said, after taking a calming breath. “I never thought you could, uh, like me like that. I always thought you just saw me as the little kid you helped get into the Garrison.” 

Shiro laughed. “You haven't been that little kid in a long time. You've proven yourself time and time again as a paladin and a leader. You really didn't think I wouldn't see that?” 

Keith could feel his cheeks burning. 

“It can be hard to tell,” Keith said. “Because I've been in love with you since then. I never had the vocabulary to say it out loud. I never knew what to call it, when I've been in love with you for so long and you've meant so much to me. It wasn't until I talked to Klaxigan that I thought maybe by trying to give it a specific name, I was overthinking it.”

He could see the same look of puzzlement and then slow awareness in Shiro's gaze.

It was a really bad time for Klaxigan to walk by and say, “Last ten dobashes, bakers! Make them count.” 

They got the cake out and started to ice it. Shiro took most of the detail work, while Keith handled icing the sides. Shiro had made a couple of nice flowers before Keith managed to work up the courage to say, “Can I kiss you?” 

Keith had dreamed of kissing Shiro a thousand different ways a thousand different times over the years, but in none of them had there been an audience of bake show worshipping aliens. Even despite the smattering of pleased alien hums -- which still weirded Keith out -- it was everything he had wanted and more. 

They kept kissing until the judges called time. 

“I didn't get to the last rose,” Shiro complained after a half minute, his voice a little breathless. 

“If I know anything about these aliens,” Keith huffed, “It won't matter, because they'll have the wrong idea of what an Earth rose looks like anyway.” 

 

Their cake was one of the last desserts to be judged. Shiro presented it with a flourish. 

“This is a recipe I used to make with my grandma. She loved cooking. She said it was a way to share love with someone.” He smiled as he stole a backwards look at Keith. “Today I learned just how right she was.”

Pawharlwood reached for a slice. He bit into it savagely and then said, “Underproofed.” 

“But cakes don't pr--” Keith started to object, before Pawharlwood lifted a hand to cut him off.

“The crumb, however, is exquisite. You can tell that this was made with love. A worthy effort, humans.” 

“You have done well, bakers,” Merbourdain spoke. “Now, as promised, Jordenmuuster will reward you for your work today. Keep the spirit of baking in your heart always.” 

There was a snap. The world went black, and Keith opened his eyes to the cockpit of the Black Lion slowly coming into focus.

He sat there slowly blinking into a vast expanse of stars before he heard Shiro behind him ask, “Keith?” 

Keith turned. “Did you just have a really weird dream?”

“With aliens and cakes?” 

Keith nodded. 

Shiro started to smile. “I'm hoping not all of it was a dream.” 

They spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, kissing and making up for lost time.


End file.
